My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

I’ve been making one of a kind cards for my website and handing them out. Thought I ‘d share a few with you. I put them on the back of old monopoly cards.

Sean sent me this a long time ago. I’m cleaning out the garage and have saved all the letters ever sent to me. I never go back and reread them, but I save them out of respect for the people I suppose. Or to know that someone cared about me. As a monument to friendships? Actually, I’m not sure why.

Yeah, I found this book in the garage, can’t remember where it came from. A book on Orthodontia published in 1889. All kinds of crazy wires to pull your teeth together. Not much has changed.

You have to be in a city awhile to find that kind of stuff out. The hidden nooks, the unbuttered crannies. None of that has anything to do with this awesome graphic for a very strange lightbulb. Doesn’t have to. I have decided to forgo perfection and start being easy on myself. Throw out my tape measure and hope for the best. Stop hoping for the best and just give it a shot. Too many things don’t get done because I’m afraid I won’t do them right or well. I’m not talking parachuting either. I’m talking about trying to paint a watercolor of the telephone wires obstructing my view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Failure would not hurt. I sit at my window and watch the clouds change the color of the water and then my eyes settle on the crazy wires tethering my building to poles and more wires and my neighbors up and down the street. A world famous monument fades in the background as I consider the L-shaped spikes hammered into the wooden stanchion that allows a lineman access to the insulators. It’s a telephone pole. Easier to look at than the bridge in the distance. Nothing’s perfect. But things are going well. Sorry to scare you the other day.

its been an interesting month, turning 35, breaking up with my lady, getting back together, spraining my ankle, getting lots of work, putting a shovel-full of coke up my nose, wondering how it will all end…

I’m a free-lancer. I don’t have any work scheduled ever again as of today. I don’t have a job. Most people can’t handle that, they want to wake up and know where they are going and how much money they will deposit against their mortgage. I can deal with the unknown. I don’t like it, I get scared too, but I don’t have anyone relying on me. No wife, no kids, no parents to support. Someone might call me tomorrow and ask me to move a bunch of garbage for them. Or bring cameras and lights to a location. Or pick up a couch somewhere and take it somewhere else. Each day is a mystery to me.

My parents are driving from New Hampshire to Ohio today, to visit my half uncle. My father’s half brother. He had a son named John Rolston, who committed suicide about my age. We all went to his funeral. I kept the Catholic calling card that had his name embossed alongside the funeral home. There’s a million different ways my life could have ended up.

I live in a city, with no family a thousand miles around. I can get lonely and go to a bar and look up and down that long plank of polyurethaned wood and look for someone to fuck, but that won’t help. I’d rather stay at home and read until I pass out on the couch. I’ve always enjoyed loneliness. It hurts, but I like how it hurts. I’m just not interested in people being too close. No man is an island, but some men are no man’s land. Can you dig it?

Sean drew the ghetto blaster, I drew the headphones, about two years ago when we were working together on a job.

this goes out Mitch – good talkin’ to ya.

In what may be the best wedding gift ever, Doug bought his friend ninja stars and a few throwing knives in Chinatown and built a target of his own likeness. The hair is little wood scraps. It also features a real strip of leather for the belt.

Not sure if this billboard is unique to San Francisco. It says “Gay Television, here on demand”.

photo posted from my iPhone

Here’s a different angle on the donut narration. Is this a better direction?

Donuts and drugs. They go hand in hand – like beer…and hot dogs. You walk out of a bar and see some Latin dude rolling franks around on a hot piece of tin and your heart cries out “Street dogs!” You fish out your wallet… “Here’s three bucks, I want one with everything on it, extra hot peppers”. That’s what pints do to you.

Druggies are different. They go for the sugar buzz. From weed to speed they need the rush.

For me a donut is like casual sex. I think about it, get excited, and do it. Soon as I’m done, I feel terrible. A pain in my stomach. Remorse and shame. I say I’ll never do it again. I promise, and then a few days later, I smell the perfume wafting down the sidewalk. I get dizzy. I walk in the shop and there she is…with a pretty pink skirt of frosting, beautiful rainbow sprinkle jewelry. Soft and round. And that hole in the middle…

The donut hole. Why don’t they have bagel holes? They have donut holes, but as for the bagels, they remain missing. They’re very different things of course. You wouldn’t put eggs on a donut. Totally acceptable for bagels. As for bagel holes, you’d never get the little things out with out turning the toaster upside down and shaking the bejeezus out of it.

photo posted from my iPhone

got a call from a gal, water from Ian’s place was for some reason running out of the ceiling into her place. Ian’s in England. I got there shortly after Glenn. He got to be the hero. The dishwasher line had been eaten through by mice nesting in Ian’s cupboard. Most people don’t run dishwasher line theough the cupboard, but we’re all friends. We take short cuts. That’s the joy of home ownership.
It was nice to see Glenn. We used to stand shoulder to shoulder in the trenches remodelling that house back in January.
“You got rock ‘n roll hair now,” he said.
“What happened to your face,” I said.
It didn’t sound mean when I said it. There was a scab under Glenn’s left eye.
“I was leaving the bar on my bicycle down where all that new construction is and I was lookin up at these buildings wondering how easy they would be to break in and I rode right into a chain link fence.”
That was enough to get me laughing. Glenn is a pretty together guy. Doesn’t bumble around like I do. I enjoyed picturing him riding directly into a tall fence.
“The fence didnt have any poles, so it was real loose strung across the path. It was like a sling shot. It shot me out backwards.”
Ian had left beer in the fridge. We had already mopped up the hot water from the dishwasher and were sitting at his kitchen table enjoying his beer.
“I couldn’t believe it when I hit it, how far I kept going forward. It had a lot of slack. I was really surprised. At least I’m not limping around like you though. I can tell people I was doing stunt work. You got beat up.”
We laughed and drank more of Ian’s beer. It’s good to catch up with friends.

weird thing made by Sonja and me
I dreamed about a bee with long angled spider legs that could run as fast as it flew. A cockroach had a thin feather for a tail and it jumped in my mouth and climbed down my throat. Someone in my dream told me the cockroach would begin to eat me alive if I didn’t get it out. I didn’t know how to get it out.